


Switch

by mistr3ssquickly



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: M/M, This is literally nothing but smut, You're Welcome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-12-08 03:51:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11638365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistr3ssquickly/pseuds/mistr3ssquickly
Summary: Luke's curious. Han's happy to educate him.





	Switch

It’s Lando’s fault, really, showing up with that goddamn swagger in his step and a bottle of wine in his hand, his smirk smug enough to show teeth Han thinks just for a second about reintroducing to his fist before licking them with his tongue instead, Lando’s kisses always more of a competition than an expression of affection or desire. He takes the bottle of wine away and sets it down on something flat, he doesn’t have the mind to care what, too distracted by the feel of Lando’s hands on his ass, freed from their burdens, squeezing hard, demanding exactly what Han intends to give him.

They fall into bed together with most of their clothes off, Han’s shirt and Lando’s briefs remaining to be stripped away, no huge tragedy there, the tight silky material barely covering Lando’s erection smooth against Han’s tongue when he leans down to mouth Lando through his briefs, sucking precome through the fabric. Lando’s voice breaks as he reaches down to tug at Han’s hair, never much of one for foreplay, his stamina giving out on him more than a few times when he and Han have messed around, and where it’s always a good ego-trip to see a man like Lando lose his cool and come all over himself just from Han’s mouth and hands, it’s not what Han’s craving, won’t satisfy the itch he’s had over the months he’s gone without.

He kisses Lando on the mouth instead, once Lando’s stripped himself out of his briefs and Han out of his shirt, the bunk beneath them narrow enough to keep them close, wrapped up in each other. Lando’s kisses drift lower and warm into gentle bites against Han’s skin as he pushes his fingers into Han’s body, meeting resistance with steady pressure and friction, working Han to the point of dripping. Making a mess of them both.

Han’s not quite begging by the time Lando’s pulling away to slick himself, making a show of leaning back and stroking his cock, ever the showman playing best to an audience, doesn’t quite keep the desperate note from the sound he makes when Lando pushes into him, thrusting in short, shallow bursts until he’s gotten Han opened fully around him, the thick curls at the base of his cock tickling Han’s balls, pulled up tight already. Lando intends to give him a good, long fuck, Han can tell, intends to go slow and make it last, but it’s been months since Han’s had an orgasm from anyone but himself, longer than that since he last slept with a man, so the prospect of going slow and savoring the moment is as unappealing as jerking off _yet again,_ alone in his quarters. He plants his feet against the squashy mattress of his bunk and pushes, forcing a faster rhythm, arousal pulsing through him like a heartbeat when Lando groans and gives in, leaning over him and fucking him hard, making the most delicious, desperate sounds as he does. Just as good at driving Han crazy as he's always been, working him steadily towards what promises to be a fantastic orgasm. 

Until Luke walks in on them, anyway, the younger man’s mouth open around Han’s name, the sound tilted in a question that cuts off into a stumbling apology straight away, Luke’s entire face going _bright_ red for the half-second Han sees it over Lando’s shoulder before Luke turns and bolts, probably (hopefully) to hide in a hole until the crushing embarrassment of the moment has lightened into something more bearable. Han flops back against his pillow and scrubs a hand over his face, laughing because he can’t think of anything else to do, honestly, Lando’s expression warm with bemused affection when Han looks at him, breaking into another helpless chuckle not long after.

“Guess there’s one lesson the kid won’t be needing to learn elsewhere,” Lando says, awkward, his cock still fully hard, despite the interruption. Han squirms under him a little, flexing in the hopes that Lando will take the hint and go back to moving in him.

“Ain’t a lesson he needs to learn,” he says when Lando doesn’t move, grinning like he _knows_ he’s doing exactly what Han doesn’t want him to do. “He’s warmed my bunk plenty.”

Lando lifts an eyebrow at him, giving him a single deep thrust that makes Han’s breath catch. “You ever think to teach him to lock the door while he was keeping you warm at night?” he says, and Han knows better than to punch a man who’s actively fucking him, so he settles instead for growling and rolling Lando onto his back, taking charge of their fucking until they’ve both come, Luke’s untimely appearance in his bunk little more than a footnote to the whole thing.

He could probably get away with pretending nothing happened, he muses the next time he sees Luke, the younger man busy enough with the conversation he’s having with Wedge and some of the other pilots from his new squadron that he doesn’t blush or apologize or do anything more than nod in greeting, focused in a way he is only where flying and starships are concerned. It’s the best thing to do, really, never bringing it up, tucking the memory away to use only as a funny anecdote to share among friends while drinking, if at all, letting Luke keep some shred of dignity wherever he can, at the same time steering him well clear of any discussion about Han’s cavalier attitude towards sex and monogamy, his relations with Leia strained enough from the very same, no need to have similar troubles with Luke.

So of _course_ Luke brings it up the next time they get some time alone together, so receptive to Han’s kisses that it catches Han completely by surprise when Luke stops kissing and looks at him, face flushed and lips swollen, beautiful blue eyes dark with lust, and says, “What’s it feel like, getting fucked?”

Han frowns at him, his hands stilled where they’d been busy unfastening Luke’s clothes, his mind too focused on how he might like to get off with Luke for him to produce anything more intelligent in response than, “Wha?”

“Getting fucked,” Luke repeats, pushing Han’s fingers away from his belt and taking it off himself, dropping it and his tunic to the floor of his quarters with less care than he’s ever shown his garments before. “I’ve been wondering how it feels. I’ve never done it before.”

“You’ve never -- Luke, we’ve fucked a hundred times,” Han says, his logical brain catching up well enough to inform him that talking isn’t sex and anything that isn’t sex isn’t what he wants right now, his cock already fully hard and frankly eager to have some part of Luke touching it. Which he’s not. “What’re you --”

“I’ve fucked you, yeah,” Luke says, “but I’ve never -- we’ve never done it the other way around.”

 _Well yeah, not when I can get a cock like yours inside me_ doesn’t make it out of Han’s mouth, a blessing for which he’ll be eternally grateful later, he’s sure of it. “You’re askin’ me how it feels to have a cock up your ass,” Han says, reaching down to cup Luke’s backside, pulling him in close enough to get some friction against his erection, finally.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m asking,” Luke says, and he has the _nerve_ to look like he thinks _Han’s_ the one being obtuse when he says it.

Han pinches him on the ass for it. “Thought you said you weren’t a virgin the first time you dragged me into your bunk.”

“I wasn’t.”

“And your buddies back on Tatooine,” Han says, “none’a them ever put you on your back and fucked you?”

Luke shakes his head. “No. But you haven’t, either.”

“Got a point there, I suppose,” Han concedes.

“Lando didn’t, either,” Luke continues, as calm as if he’s not unnecessarily delaying sex by confessing that he’s been fucking Lando Calrissian at some point in his life, a revelation that has Han’s knuckles itching for a go at Lando’s face, “but he was fucking you when I interrupted you two, so I know he doesn’t dislike it.”

Han snorts. “Pretty sure no man in his right mind _doesn’t_ like how it feels to fuck someone,” he says.

“No, but --”

 _“I_ like it,” Han says, “maybe not as much as I like getting fucked, but it’s no hardship. If that’s what you’re askin’ me to do with you.”

Luke’s entire face lights up at that, the overeager farmboy space virgin from years earlier replacing in the blink of an eye the world-weary Jedi he’s been acting like lately. “Yes,” he says. Then, because he’s just always going to be kind of a dork, Han suspects, he adds: “Please.”

Han laughs at him, can’t help himself, smothering his mirth in a sloppy kiss that Luke returns with only a little grumpy hesitance, never a fan of Han treating him like he’s naive, even though he is and hasn’t yet learnt to filter to cover up his naivete. He’s eager about stripping naked, though, almost pushy when he’s gotten himself undressed and reaches over to help Han with his trousers and pants, getting his mouth on Han’s cock before Han’s gotten his feet and legs free of his clothes, sucking at him with all of his usual enthusiasm and skill.

Han pulls away from him before things can go too far down that road, his stamina in bed never much of a problem for him except when Luke’s got in mind to go down on him, the younger man’s ability to bring him off far too fast with his mouth equal only to his apparent love of doing so whenever and wherever he’s thought they could get away with it. He pushes Luke down onto the bunk and kisses him on the mouth, pulling at Luke’s thigh until Luke’s figured out what he wants and wrapped his leg over Han’s hip, spreading him open well enough for Han to stroke his fingers down between his buttocks, feeling for the dip and pucker of his ass, rubbing it just hard enough for the dry friction to make Luke squirm, whining softly into Han’s mouth. So eager and wanting that it makes Han’s cock jerk, his heart racing with the thick carnal desire he feels for the man pressed against him.

He works Luke dry as long as he thinks he can get away with it, has to pull away from Luke’s mouth to retrieve the bottle of slick Luke’s kept in every standard-issue pillowcase of every bunk he’s been assigned over the years he and Han have been fucking each other in Rebellion barracks, his heart knocking an uneven rhythm against his ribs at the sight of Luke half-wrapped around him, flushed and adoring, unusually still, waiting for Han to touch him, to stretch him open as he’s done for Han countless times before.

Han kisses him once he’s got his fingers slick, has to just to get away from the way Luke’s looking at him, intense and focused, like he’s trying to stare into Han’s soul or something. It’s not the most elegant kiss they’ve shared, distracted as Han is, Luke pulling away from it to bite and suck at Han’s throat instead, moaning softly as Han fingers him. He stops when Han slips him a second finger, stays curled close, his head tucked against Han’s chin, his breath warm against Han’s chest as he moves with the rhythm of Han’s fingers inside him, his erection softening between them. He makes a confused sound when Han pushes him away, slow to roll onto his back, his muscles tense and expression pulled in a frown, so like his expression when his meditations are interrupted that Han suspects he’s been approaching the discomfort of being stretched with the same stoicism he has for his Jedi exercises, a similarity Han is immediately determined to never see again. He nudges Luke’s thighs apart and leans down to lick at the head of Luke’s cock, sucking it into his mouth as he slips his fingers back into Luke’s body, easing Luke into the stretch this time, bringing him fully hard before spreading his fingers, massaging the thick muscle tight around them.

His jaw’s just starting to ache by the time he’s got a third finger in Luke’s ass, his cock leaking a mess against his thigh, jerking with each sound Luke makes, each aborted thrust of Luke’s hips under his weight, wanting more but unsure of what getting more will feel like, the apparently foreign sensation of having fingers inside him keeping him from being as active a participant in their fucking as he usually is. He openly cries out when Han pulls off of him and dips lower, mouthing at his balls and rubbing his prostate, pushes his legs wide apart in invitation when Han sits up to look at him, taking in the sight of him, open and receptive and wanting, maybe not desperate but eager all the same, arguably the most erotic creature Han has ever had in his bed.

“Easy, Luke,” he murmurs when Luke reacts to the blunt pressure of Han's cockhead against his ass by trying to push himself down onto it, his usual impatience and love of control in bed bound to earn him a bad time if he doesn’t cut it out.

“I know how this works,” Luke says, shifting his hips in a way that makes _not_ thrusting into him as deep as his muscles will allow Han to do damned close to impossible. “You don't have to be so careful.”

“I’d show you how wrong you are,” Han tells him, and even to his own ears his voice sounds strained, breathless, “but hurting lovers ain’t my thing. Just let me make this feel good, will ya?”

Luke shifts under him, easing Han a fraction of an inch deeper. “It does,” he says. “Feel good.”

Han groans and works himself a bit deeper, the thrill of denying himself almost as arousing as the sight of his cock spreading Luke open, stretching him wide. “Yeah,” he says. “You do, too,” and the way Luke shudders under him in response is enough to make his entire _being_ ache with lust.

He takes it slow once he’s in as deep as he can get, pulling out almost all the way before pushing back in, watching Luke’s tight control slowly thaw as he adjusts to the feeling of being stretched and filled, his eyes slipping closed as he reaches up to brace himself against the wall at the head of his bunk, his lips parting in a breathless noise of pleasure when Han pushes in and he pushes back in counterpoint.

 _“There,”_ he says after a long minute filled with nothing but the sound of their coupling, opening his eyes and looking at Han, for all that he doesn’t look like he’s focusing very well. “Right -- right there, it feels -- _ahh_ \-- feels good.”

Han thrusts in again, harder than before, aiming right for Luke’s prostate. “Yeah?” he says, and even to his own ears he sounds unbearably smug, can’t summon the energy to give even _half_ a damn about it, not when Luke arches under him a little, grinding himself on Han’s cock as best he can, his own cock fully erect once again, making a mess against his belly. The sound he makes when Han reaches between them to jerk him off is soft and broken, cracking under the shudder that passes through his entire body, his ass clenching around Han’s cock as he does. So like the sound he makes when he’s the one doing the fucking, throwing his entire _being_ into the act with the same sort of abandon he usually reserves for taking stupid, deadly risks, that Han can’t help but moan and fuck him faster, chasing the sheer carnal thrill of taking Luke apart, seeing him feel good.

He pushes Han away from his cock and takes over stroking himself when Han’s grip on him starts to falter under the animal urge to fuck as hard and fast as he can, strokes himself in time with Han’s thrusts, twisting his palm over the head of his cock, slick and messy. Han swears breathlessly and mounts him, taking an almost voyeuristic pleasure in seeing Luke spread open and flushed and sweaty, writhing on his cock, tensed and panting as he pleasures himself. It pushes him fast towards orgasm, his balls pulling up tight and cock aching with the need to come, wound tight around every nerve, but he doesn’t have the mind to care, fucking Luke hard and fast through the final seconds of agonizing _want,_ no rhythm or grace to it, no skill or conscious thought beyond the grasping desperation for gratification, and when it hits, finally, he doesn’t have the breath for more than a bitten-off cry of Luke’s name, the rush of climax burning through him like a blaster shot.

“God -- god _damn,”_ he breathes through the shuddering aftershocks, Luke tight around him, milking him as he tumbles down from orgasm, his arms giving out under the weight of his own body, and he doesn’t crush Luke beneath him but it’s a near thing, the heat of Luke’s skin brushing against the sweat on his own. “Goddamn, Luke.”

Luke tightens around him, his knuckles brushing Han’s lower belly where he’s still working himself, his skin flush with it, throat working. “Yeah. Stay in me. Please.”

Another aftershock shivers through Han’s body, his cock jerking in the slick mess he’s made in Luke’s ass. “Yeah,” he breathes, pushing in deep and leaning down to bite at Luke’s throat. Luke turns his head away to give Han better access, his eyes slipping closed and breath coming faster through parted lips. He moves his bionic hand to squeeze Han’s hip, anchoring him, keeping him still as he rocks under him, fucking himself where Han is hard, still, the friction edging quickly towards the wrong side of too much.

Luke doesn’t last long enough for it to be a problem, his muscles clamping down _hard_ around Han in the desperate gasping seconds before he orgasms, bowing up under Han’s body and shooting semen across Han’s belly and his own chest, crying out like he’s in pain as he does, jerking desperately at his cock. Just like something out of a really good pornholo, tired flickers of arousal licking at the base of Han’s spine as he bites down on Luke’s shoulder, lifting his head to kiss Luke on the mouth once he’s managed a good dark bruise on Luke’s pale skin, everything sticky and sweaty between them.

“I get why you like it so much,” he breathes when Han has to pull away and pull out and pull off, his cock soft and messy, knees protesting the inadequate padding of the mattress. “That felt really good.”

“I wouldn’t do it if it didn’t,” Han tells him, pleased and embarrassed in equal measure, Luke’s gaze too focused and unbroken, even tired as he must be, following him as he stretches out at Luke’s side, leaning in to kiss him on the shoulder, just because he can.

“No, I guess you wouldn’t,” Luke says. He yawns and scratches at his belly, grimacing at the mess he’d apparently not noticed before, semen and sweat streaked across his skin. “Thanks for doing it like this with me. I was curious.”

Han laughs, shaking his head. “Not a hardship,” he says. “Ass like yours, I’m surprised it took you this long to get curious enough to try it this way.”

“I’d wondered, before,” Luke says, “but I’d never -- I don’t know. It felt wrong to ask.”

“Until you walked in on me and Lando,” Han fills in.

Luke nods. “I _am_ sorry about that,” he says. “I thought you were alone.”

“And you could, what, tell I was hot ‘n bothered or something? Came by to help me out?”

“Yes. I can usually tell when you’re doing that. Alone.”

Han lifts an eyebrow at him. “You can tell when I’m jerking off,” he says.

“If I’m doing my meditations at the same time, yes,” Luke says. “And thinking about you. All three have to happen at the same time for me to -- to feel it. Know that's what you're doing.”

“Gonna regret asking this,” Han says, “but, ah, how often does that happen?”

Luke’s mouth curves into a lopsided smile. “It’s not as often as you think,” he says. “Maybe a dozen times, over the years.”

Han breathes out a laugh, shaking his head, the _wrongness_ of the whole thing squirming up in his belly like laughter. “So all the times you’ve come by when I was in the mood and we fucked,” he says, “I’ve got your Force religion to thank for that?”

“Yeah. Probably.”

“Great.”

“It’s not intentional,” Luke says. “And there’s nothing wrong with -- with that.”

“Jerking off, Luke,” Han says, “you've watched me do it a thousand times, you just did it while I fucked you -- you don’t get to be embarrassed about _saying_ it.". He can tell Luke’s uncomfortable with the whole thing, all the same, even though he just confessed spying on Han’s alone-time through the Force. “Don’t suppose you’ve ever slept with more’n one man at a time before, have you? While we’re on the topic of things you’ve not gotten around to trying.”

Luke shakes his head. “No. Just you and Leia together. I liked that.”

Han _openly_ laughs this time, the memory of Luke’s enthusiastic reaction to having both of his lovers in his bed at one time one of his favorites, just as precious to him as the beautiful man spread out before him. “Yeah, we're a good combo, the three of us,” he says. “Different with all guys, though. Just as good, but different. Lando likes it. And since you’ve been fucking him --”

“Once,” Luke says. “We slept together once. It wasn’t a big deal.”

“So make it twice and let me come along to show Lando how things’re done.” He lifts his shoulder in a shrug. “Or don’t. Ain’t like you’ve gotta try it, just because you haven’t before.”

Luke nods, his hair scrubbing against his pillow. “I’ll think about it,” he says. “Thanks.”

Han pushes himself forward, close enough to give Luke a slow, dirty kiss, all the affection he’s developed for the guy over the years rising in his throat, making it hard to breathe. “Any time,” he says, the words ghosting over Luke’s mouth. “Happy to do it.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_Author’s thoughts:_  
Here, have 3.5k of unrepentant pointless smut starring my two favorite idiots in someone else’s fictional universe. This story brought to you courtesy my realization that I’d never written anyone jerking off in the _Star Wars_ universe, then laughing to myself at the thought of Luke being able to tell through the Force when Han was having some happy alone time. Good times. And look, I managed to get Lando laid for once! It’s a miracle.

Also hello my utter _disgust_ for the trope of Luke the super-submissive virgin who doesn’t know where to put his dick. Look at the man. I mean really, _look at him._ Doesn’t jive at all.


End file.
